Shoot That Poison Arrow

I'm writing this on the train to Liverpool - every three months I go for my Botox treatment at the regional brain hospital.

Right now I'm mildly vexed that I've only just (7.30am) managed to wake the teenager for school. Three calls to his phone (why do all young people keep their mobiles on silent?); then I was inspired to 'broadcast' to the Google Nest - success! I knew it was good for something other than the song quiz!

I am travelling by train today for three reasons. Partly dogged independence, partly that my occasional husband has man 'flu, and mostly because I have to be there for 9.30am and the car journey would hit the Liverpool morning rush. Usually the secretary sees my address and gives me an afternoon appointment - not so today. So I had the delight of a 6.15am train. In my dogged independence I had quite forgotten that it would be dark when I drove to the railway station - too early for a bus - so I am already jittery and jangling from the contrasting bright headlights and street lighting. Nobody on the early train commented on my blackout mask.

My appointment takes ten minutes, so it is a long and expensive journey, but worth it for the reduction in migrainous episodes. Botox is NICE approved but seems to be the last resort…